Light My Way
by flotternz
Summary: Sometimes one persons foolish action can change things forever... PART 5 UP!!!!
1. Part One

TITLE: Light My Way  
  
AUTHOR: Saz  
  
E-MAIL: flotterbum@netscape.net  
  
PAIRING: G/C  
  
RATING: PG-13 for a little bit of violence.  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask!  
  
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me much as I'd like em to be . yadda yadda.  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes Please!!!  
  
SPOILERS: Lady Heather's Box  
  
SUMMARY/NOTES: Big thanks and hugs to Tara, Clara and Erin for betaing this and encouraging me for more!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Light My Way, Part One  
  
By Saz  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Part One  
  
My alarm clock rings out shrilly, waking me from my deep sleep. Sighing, I roll over, slap the snooze button and pull my pillow over my face. A normal person would say that they hate mornings - well, I hate evenings. Essentially this is my morning anyway, and I am *not* a morning person. Perhaps I wouldn't feel that way if I didn't wake up alone every day. I hate waking up to an empty bed and empty house.  
  
At least Lindsey will be home soon.  
  
That thought is enough to put a smile on my face. My sister had picked her up after school and taken her back to her house for dinner to give me a chance to sleep in. She was going to drop Lindsey off later so we can spend some time together before the sitter comes around and I have to go to work.  
  
The alarm goes off again and I turn it off. Kicking the bedding off of me I swing my legs over the bed and stand, feeling suddenly exhilarated. My screwed up work schedule leaves me little time to spend with my daughter, and I look forward to every opportunity that we have to spend together. But I can't give up my work; I love my job too much to give it up.  
  
Besides, that would mean leaving my friends behind, and that's the last thing that I want to do. Then, of course, there's Grissom. I value his friendship too much to leave. He might not feel the same way about me as I do about him, but I'll take him any way that I can get him and if it's just being his friend I can live with that.  
  
Pushing thoughts of my attraction to my boss aside, I quickly dress and pad into the bathroom. After turning on the faucet, I splash some cold water on my face and then begin my daily ritual of cleaning my face and applying my makeup. I think it's better to be dressed and ready for work before she comes home so we can have a little more time to spend together. In my opinion, every minute counts.  
  
The front door clicks open and gently closes a moment later. I can't help but grin. "Lindsey, baby, I'm in the bathroom," I call out to her.  
  
I listen as footsteps shuffle down the hallway towards me, finding it odd that she hasn't bothered to greet me, but she can be like that at times. The footfalls slow and then stop outside the door, and the reflection in the mirror makes me freeze.  
  
Unless my daughter has grown a foot and gained thirty or forty pounds during the day, then it isn't her standing in the doorway.  
  
Slowly, I turn to face the intruder, the lipstick still clutched open but unapplied in my hand and completely forgotten. My eyes take in every detail at once from the ski mask concealing his face, to the hazel eyes peering out at me, the dark, ratty, clothes and the Colt 9mm clutched casually in his hand.  
  
*Oh God, please don't let Lindsey come home now!*  
  
He moves silently, stalking me to block the doorway and my only exit. I don't panic though, there's no point in panicking, but there is no way in hell I am going to let him violate me. He is not going to get me without a fight. I don't want my friends to have to investigate whatever the hell this man has in store for me.  
  
I casually put the lipstick back down on the counter, my demeanour a lot calmer than I'm starting to feel inside. My stomach is churning; my heart is beginning to pound. He's just standing there, staring at me. *Leering* at me.  
  
When he finally does move, it's so quickly that I have no time to react. He forces me back until my back is pressed against the wall, his body firmly pinning me there as his hands roam my body. I can feel the gun digging into my flesh, scratching and bruising.  
  
I was always told that if a man forces himself on you to stay perfectly still, to show no reaction whatsoever to what he is doing to you. In the past I've had my fair share of men trying to force themselves on me, and never once have I allowed myself to just lie there and take what comes.  
  
And I sure as hell I'm not going to now.  
  
Unfortunately for him, he made the mistake of leaving my arms free. I manage to bring my arms up and push him away from me. He staggers back a couple of steps and looks at me with what I can only guess is surprise. He straightens his shoulders and rounds on me again, but I'm not going to give him the chance to subdue me.  
  
I'm feisty and tough, and I'm sure as hell no pushover and I have every intention of showing him exactly that. He steps closer, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to intimidate me. I step forward, too, and kick out with my foot, catching him in the stomach with enough force to drive the air out of his lungs. He clutches his stomach and doubles over; leaving me with the opening I'd been waiting for.  
  
I ball my fist and swing out with every ounce of power that I can muster. My fist connects to his jaw with a satisfying crack, sending him reeling backwards, his hands shooting to his jaw.  
  
It's then that I realize that I've made one fatal mistake: I lost track of the gun.  
  
I watch in what feels like slow motion as the gun falls from his hand. I watch as his eyes widen as he, too, comes to the same realization that I have. However, the last thing I expect as the gun makes its slow spiral to the tiled floor is the resounding boom that fills the bathroom and leaves my ears ringing.  
  
Simultaneously something strikes me in the belly, driving the air out of my lungs with a combination of its force and the sudden knot of burning pain that fills me just below my ribs. My knees wobble unsteadily then collapse under me and I tumble to the ground, banging my head on the side of the bathtub on my way down.  
  
The blow is enough to leave me dazed, but thankfully I manage to remain conscious. Moving is a different story. My stomach feels like its on fire, even breathing sends lances of pain shooting through my body, and I know that if I even tried to move the pain would be enough to make me pass out. For a moment, I can't work out what's happened to me. The blow to the head wasn't even to incapacitate me, and of course it didn't explain the pain in my belly.  
  
"Oh God, I've been shot," I realize suddenly, speaking for the first time since this whole incident began.  
  
I remember then which direction the gun was pointed when it struck the ground and attributed the sound that filled the bathroom the instant it struck to the fact that the safety hadn't been on when he'd dropped it. What kind of a moron carries a gun around with the safety off?  
  
The same moron that's standing silently over me cussing under his breath. For the first time since he appeared at the bathroom door I begin to feel fear. He could do what he wanted to me now, and I'm in too much pain to stop him.  
  
A sob rises in my throat as I slowly move my hands to my stomach, needing to know what sort of damage has been caused. The first thing I feel is the tacky wetness of my own blood underneath my fingertips, then the ragged hole that the bullet tore in my shirt an instant before it entered my body. I can only feel a sting where the bullet entered, but no pain in my back, meaning that the bullet is still lodged somewhere in my body.  
  
It's a small blessing, and I can't help but feel thankful for it. Of course that small blessing does nothing to ease the agony that is encompassing my body at the moment. Something touches my leg and I choke back a sob as I look up at my intruder. But something in his eyes has changed. Obviously his idea of breaking into my house and raping me backfired dramatically; I can only guess that's the thought that has made his eyes so fearful.  
  
"Please, help me," I plead with him, trying to appeal to his better reason. "I have a daughter, please!"  
  
He blinks and swallows, his eyes darting between me and the door, the indecision clear in his eyes. He curses softly and leans down. Briefly I think he is going to touch me, until I hear the gun scratching on the tiles and he straightens again. "Sorry lady," he mutters, tucking the gun into his belt.  
  
"Please!" I plead one last time, but I already know it's too late and the sound of the front door slamming shut confirms that he's gone. A sob rises in my throat and I try to choke it back. I have to get to the phone. I have to get help.  
  
I try to push myself up into a sitting position, but the mere act of putting pressure on my arms - let alone getting into a position that even remotely passes as sitting - is sheer agony. My vision goes fuzzy as the pain shoots through my body, tearing a pathetic scream from my throat.  
  
Gritting my teeth I change tactics and roll myself onto my side. It takes a good five minutes, and by the time I've finally got into the desired position tears are streaming down my face and I am gasping from the effort. I know for certain there's no way I'm going to be able to drag myself down the hall to the phone.  
  
So I have to lie here and wait for someone to find me, and in all likelihood it will be my daughter. As much as I loathe the idea that she will find me in a pool of my own blood on the bathroom floor I have no other choice, I know without a doubt that I can't move, not without passing out from the pain.  
  
I close my eyes and begin to weep as I think of the possible damage that a single bullet has done to my body. I can feel and move my fingers and toes, so my spine is fine. I can breathe easily; none of my ribs feel broken. But that still leaves the possibility that the bullet has hit one of my other organs and generally made a mess of my body.  
  
*Stop thinking Catherine!*  
  
But it's useless. Lying here alone in my bathroom, bleeding, in pain and unable to move I can't help but think negative thoughts; after all I'm only human. What if I died, what would happen to Lindsey? How would she cope with losing me so soon after Eddie?  
  
And then, of course, there are the regrets. Why did I never tell Gil how I felt about him? I've been in love with him for years and yet I've never acted on it, never even attempted to find out whether or not he felt the same way, and why? Because I was scared that he's reject me. So without taking the risk, I've slept in an empty bed every night, fallen asleep wondering if maybe tonight he was sharing his bed with someone else.  
  
If I pull through this I swear I'm going to make some serious changes.  
  
The sound of the front door opening again forces my eyes open. For a fleeting moment I think that it's Grissom, that for some reason he's dropped by to see me. It only takes a moment for me to dismiss it again however. I think I'm becoming delirious. I listen to the sound of footsteps entering and the door closing and my heart begins to pound.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
There are no words that could adequately express the relief that I feel at the sound of my daughter's voice. I choke back a sob and draw my knees as high up as I can to my body to try and hide the blood on my shirt from her.  
  
"Lindsey," I yell out, surprised at how weak my voice sounds to my own ears. "I'm in the bathroom baby; I need you to call for help."  
  
It was an attempt to keep her away from the bathroom, but I know the gesture is useless, Lindsey is simply too curious to go and call someone without first knowing what's going on and why I need help. She appears at the doorway, I hear her gasp and in two steps she's on her knees next to me, her eyes wide and frightened.  
  
"Mommy, what's wrong?"  
  
Despite the agony the movement causes I reach out and touch her cheek. "I've been hurt baby," I whisper to her. "I need you to call for some help."  
  
She starts to cry, the big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Who do I call?"  
  
"Grissom," I choke out. "Call Uncle Gil."  
  
I don't know why I tell her to call him rather than an ambulance, but she seems to think it's the right idea. Nodding quickly, she stands and runs out of the bathroom.  
  
I let my eyes slide shut and listen as my daughter begins to talk on the phone. At least he'll know what to do - he always seems to know what to do.  
  
Another wave of dizziness rolls over me and I know that I only have a tenuous grip on consciousness. I just have to stay awake until Lindsey gets off the phone, just until I know that help is coming, that Gil is coming.  
  
*Please Gil, hurry.*  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
End Part One  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	2. Part Two

~*~*~*~  
  
Light My Way, Part 2  
  
By Saz  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Part Two  
  
As the phone rings loudly on my desk, disturbing me from my paper work, I take a moment to study the number displayed on it and try to bite back the swell of disappointment. Catherine. And since she isn't at work yet, I naturally have to assume she's calling in sick.  
  
I quickly pick it up, my disappointment at not being able to see her tonight giving quickly away to concern. "Grissom."  
  
I'm met with silence. Listening hard I can hear sounds in the background, something indiscernible, and the soft sound of breathing through the receiver. Then a tiny voice whispers down the line, shaky and frightened. "Uncle Gil?"  
  
"Lindsey?" I ask, even though there's no need to identify the young girl, if it isn't Catherine it has to be her. "Is everything okay?"  
  
But, deep down, I know that something is wrong, that something terrible has happened.  
  
"No," she sniffles, and then I can hear her begin to sob. "It's Mommy. She's hurt, she's lying on the floor and there's blood on her shirt."  
  
I feel my heart dropping to my toes as I stand up and try to bite back the sudden and irrational panic that is surging through me. "What happened? Is she awake? Can she talk to me, Lindsey?"  
  
She sniffles loudly. "She's awake," she responds miserably. "I'm scared Uncle Gil."  
  
"I know you are, baby," I reply, not realizing until after I say it how easily the term of endearment slips from my tongue. "Can you put your mom on the phone?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
I listen intently to the muffled sounds of Lindsey's footsteps as she moves towards her mother. I try to focus on the sounds filtering through the receiver; I need to focus on anything but the nagging fear that's clutching at my belly.  
  
I can hear them whispering, then a small, almost indiscriminate, gasp of pain. For a brief moment my heart stops, and it takes all my self-control not to drop the phone and race over there now, without knowing what's going on.  
  
"Gil?"  
  
The sound of her voice is enough to make me freeze, so full of pain and barely controlled panic. "I'm here Catherine," I tell her, somehow managing to sound a lot calmer than I actually feel.  
  
She moans softly again, the sound tearing at my heart. "I've been shot . in the stomach," she gasps, her voice strained. "Oh God, Gil, it hurts so much!"  
  
Shock rapidly gives way to fear as her words sink in. Catherine's been shot. She's lying there in pain, bleeding. I stand up. "I'm on my way now Catherine. Hang up the phone; I'll call you back on my cell."  
  
"Hurry, Gil," she said urgently. "I'm scared."  
  
*I am too, Cath, more scared than I want to admit.* "I'll be there as fast as I can, I promise."  
  
I quickly hang up the phone and scoop up my cell phone and keys before heading out of my office. I barely see Warrick as he steps in front of me, only paying enough attention to side step him as I begin dialling Catherine's number. It beeps hollowly in my ear, signalling that the line is engaged. Biting back a sigh of dismay I end the call and redial the number.  
  
Still it's engaged.  
  
"Come on Catherine," I mutter quietly to the phone as I begin to dial again.  
  
"Griss?" Warrick's voice interrupts me. I guess I should have apologized for nearly knocking him over, but that would take precious time that I don't have to spare. "What's up?"  
  
I force my legs to stop moving, the motion making my heart pound with panic for the delay. I have to get to Catherine *now*. Turning, I meet Warrick's eyes. "Catherine's been shot, I need you to call Brass and then have an ambulance meet me at Catherine's house," I bark, before moving off down the corridor again, already dialling Catherine's number again.  
  
Something touches my arm and I twist slightly to find that Warrick has caught up and is walking alongside me. "Back up the bus, boss," he said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Catherine's been *shot*? How? Why? When?"  
  
If it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation his reaction might have been humorous, but they were the questions that I wanted the answers to myself. All I could do was shrug and answer, "I don't know," I sigh, knowing that this conversation is delaying me, even though I'm still walking. "Lindsey called, put Catherine on the phone. She told me that she'd been shot."  
  
Warrick clicked his tongue impatiently. "Did she tell you if she saw the perp?"  
  
"I didn't ask. I think it's more important that I get there and get her to the hospital," I tell him, frustration lacing my tone. "Now can you please do as I asked and call Brass and an ambulance?"  
  
"Sure," he replies quickly, flashing his mobile phone in front of my face. "I can call them on the way, I'm coming along."  
  
His tone brooked no argument, and my desperation to get out of here and to Catherine's house as quickly as possible overrode the will to refuse. I nod briskly and step up the pace, walking out of the building and to my Tahoe, all the while still repeatedly dialling Catherine's number, trying to get through.  
  
She must have forgotten to hang up the phone, but it does nothing to ease my troubled mind. Again, I say a silent prayer. *Please, let her be okay.*  
  
I hop into the Tahoe and have it started and ready to go before Warrick has even gotten in. I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and wait as he seems to take forever to open the passenger door. "Whenever you're ready Warrick," I snap impatiently.  
  
It's not like me to be so emotional and I can feel the other man's eyes on me as he pulls his door shut and I slam the Tahoe into gear and screech out of the parking lot, absently flicking the siren on as I pull onto the road.  
  
I barely listen as Warrick contacts Brass and the EMT concentrating instead on the road ahead of us, and trying not to think of what we might find when we reach Catherine's house. It is the latent fear that we might walk in to find the worst that makes this trip feel like the slowest drive in history. I can feel Warrick's eyes watching me as I drive, I can almost feel the confusion and concern radiating from him.  
  
I suppose that's how unusual it is for me to display emotion, but I can't help myself. I can't lose Catherine. She's my best friend, the only person who knows me for who I am, rather than what I put across. I trust her implicitly and value her opinions and judgment . and I love her.  
  
*Don't think about that Gil think anything but that. She's going to be fine, she's a fighter. Nothing can happen to her, you need her too much.*  
  
And then we're there. The drive felt like it had lasted forever, but I knew that it was the fastest trip I had ever made to her house. I park the Tahoe, turning off the ignition and jumping out in one fluid motion. I race up the path to the front door to find Lindsey already holding it open for me, her eyes full of tears and face full of panic.  
  
I kneel down in front of her and grip her shoulder lightly with my hand. "Where's your mom, Lindsey?" I ask her, as softly as possible.  
  
The girl sniffles and wipes her eyes before pointing down the hallway. "She's in the bathroom," she answered miserably. "She fell asleep Uncle Gil, and I couldn't wake her up."  
  
My heart plummets to my feet as I stand up and glance back at Warrick, who'd followed me up the path and was bouncing on his toes behind me. He meets my eyes worriedly. "Brass and the ambulance are on their way," he replies to my silent question.  
  
"Watch Lindsey," I tell him, knowing that there is really no need to. I move quickly into the house and in the direction that the girl pointed. My heart starts pounding in my chest and I can feel my panic rising. I've become oblivious to anything else but the doorway ahead of me and the dread of what I might find behind it.  
  
*Please, let her be okay.*  
  
Subconsciously, I take a deep breath as I step into the room, my heart beginning to pound harder and faster. My eyes are drawn to nothing but her, lying still on the floor, her legs curled up so she's lying almost in a foetal position. Her face is pale, and drawn with pain. I can see some blood pooling underneath her that she's obviously tried to hide from Lindsey.  
  
Despite the sense of urgency that I feel, I take tentative steps into the room, slowly moving closer to her. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as I drop to my knees next to her and reach out to grip her wrist and check her pulse.  
  
My relief is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes as I feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, slow and thready but its there. She's still alive, she's still fighting, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that it stays that way. I settle myself down next to her and reach out to brush her hair out of her face and look down at her.  
  
"God, Cath, do you have any idea what you do to me?" I mutter softly.  
  
A small moan of pain greets my gentle touch on her forehead. "Gil?" Her voice is quiet, almost too soft for me to hear, slurred and nearly unintelligible.  
  
But it's like music to my ears, and when her eyes open to look up at me all my concerns seem to wash away. I take her hand in mine and offer her a small smile. "I'm here, Cath," I tell her. "The ambulance is on its way, you're going to be fine."  
  
She blinks, her eyes glazed in pain and smiles pitifully, making me wonder if she can actually see me through the haze of pain. "I knew you'd come," she mumbles. "I knew you'd be there for me."  
  
"In a crunch, Cath, you know that," I joke lightly. "How are you feeling?"  
  
She emits a small snort, followed by a grunt of pain. "Like I've been shot, stupid question Gil."  
  
Sarcasm - that's good.  
  
I shift slightly, and lightly grip her shoulders. "I'm going to turn you over; I want to have a look, okay?"  
  
Panic passes across her face. "Lindsey?" She asks weakly.  
  
"Don't worry, she's with Warrick," I reassure her.  
  
"Good," she whispers, the tension ebbing from her body as her eyes slide shut, allowing me to turn her gently on to her back. The front of her shirt is completely soaked with blood, making a lump form in my throat.  
  
I can feel her beginning to lose consciousness again, and fight the fleeting panic that if she falls asleep she might not wake up again. I touch her cheek. "Cath, you have to stay awake", I tell her, "Talk to me, tell me what happened."  
  
She licks her lips and opens her eyes again as I begin to fumble with the buttons on her shirt. A small smile touches her lips. "I always imagined you doing that under different circumstances."  
  
I freeze momentarily, her half-open shirt forgotten in my hands as the words I'd never imagined she'd say to me left her lips, the implication clear. Never imagined, but had always hoped deep down inside. It takes a moment for my rationality to click back in and for me to force my hands back into motion. She's delirious and in pain, she's not thinking or talking straight.  
  
I manage to open the last button of her shirt and open the flaps, my eyes quickly finding and analysing the damage. The wound is small; perhaps the size of a dime, and nestled less than an inch below her ribs on the right side of her stomach, but blood is still trickling from the wound. Instinctively I know there's not enough blood to constitute an exit wound, and allow myself a small sigh of relief. Reaching above us, I grab a towel from the towel rack and apply pressure to the wound.  
  
Catherine's eyes widen and she cries out in pain. "I'm sorry, Honey," I whisper as soothingly as I can manage, "but we have to try and control the bleeding."  
  
"I know," she slurs through gritted teeth, her eyes sliding shut.  
  
"Cath," I snap, the abrupt loudness of my voice forcing her eyes back open. I have to keep her talking, she has to stay awake. "What were the different circumstances you were talking about?"  
  
A dreamy expression crossed her face. "A nice romantic candlelit dinner, just you and me. A bit of wine, a bit of dancing, a lot of kissing and then us making love for the rest of the night."  
  
I can feel a blush creeping on to my cheeks at her words. She imagined *us* making love? Catherine, the woman I'd always thought would be my friend but would never love me to the depth that I loved her? Was it possible? Or was she just delirious?  
  
"Making love on our first date?" I ask her, my curiosity winning out over concern. My voice catches in my throat.  
  
She chuckles slightly, the haze of pain seeming to clear from her eyes for a moment as she looks at me. "Not really a date, we know each other better than most married couples so I think we can forgo the dating phase."  
  
My mind reeling, I struggle to find a response when the sound of a siren and hurried footsteps greet my ears. I grip her hand tightly in mine as Brass steps into the room. "The ambulance is here, Honey, you're going to be okay."  
  
"I know I am Gil," she whispered dreamily, "You're here with me."  
  
This time I do blush at the earnestness in her voice and take her hand in mine. I don't reply, wanting to save her from any embarrassment that this might cause her once she's recovered and my own embarrassment if I was wrong and looking too deeply into what she's been saying.  
  
The arrival of the paramedics and gurney give me all the excuse I need to not answer. I try to release her hand but she tightens her grip and holds on with more strength than I would have thought possible. She mewls softly, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine.  
  
"Please Gil," she pleads, her voice small and fearful, "Don't go."  
  
*Wow*. I've never heard that in Cath's voice; the fear, the *need*. And I can't say no to her, I never could. I grip her hand again and move as far out of the way as I can to allow the Paramedics to do their work.  
  
For the first time since he entered the bathroom I look up at Brass, meeting eyes that are full of questions and worry. It's not really his jurisdiction, but there's no one else I trust more to hunt down and find the bastard that did this to her than Jim Brass.  
  
And I have no answers to give him.  
  
I turn back to Cath, giving her my full attention. The paramedics are cutting away her shirt, their actions quick and methodical as they clean and dress the wound. My eyes are glued to Catherine's as I try to give her as much reassurance as I can through my eyes and touch.  
  
*You're going to be okay, you're going to be fine. I'm here for you.*  
  
Finally the paramedics are done and they gently lift her on to the gurney. Catherine cries out in pain at the movement and grips my hand even tighter. I run the fingers of my free hand through her hair and whisper nonsensical, soothing words to her until they have her settled on the gurney.  
  
"Gil, stay with me," she whispers as the paramedics raise the gurney. "I need you."  
  
There is nothing else for her to say and all I need to hear. There's no way I could ever refuse her.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
End Part 2  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	3. Part Three

TITLE: Light My Way  
  
AUTHOR: Saz  
  
E-MAIL: flotterbum@netscape.net  
  
PAIRING: G/C  
  
RATING: PG  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask!  
  
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me much as I'd like em to be . yadda yadda.  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes Please!!!  
  
SPOILERS: LHB  
  
SUMMARY/NOTES: Thanks heaps to Tara, Erin and Clara for betaing this for me again. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it. And even though she'll probably never read it, thanks to my sister Lisa for her help translating medical jargon for me. :::huggles::: to you all  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Light My Way  
  
By Saz  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Part 3  
  
The waiting is going to kill me.  
  
I think that as I pace back and forth along the spotless white corridor, the smell of antiseptic bitter in my nostrils. Normally the typical hospital smells and sounds don't bother me, but tonight they're driving me insane. The smell alone is enough to remind me of death and illness, and death is the last thing that I want to think about at the moment.  
  
I turn, walk ten steps, turn again and repeat the process. I tried sitting, but I couldn't stop fidgeting, and I couldn't stop looking at my watch. So I started pacing, feeling the need to be in motion even if it's just going in a small circle over and over again, it's better than just sitting there watching the clock and wondering what on earth was going on.  
  
A small, frustrated sigh reminds me that I'm not alone. I pause momentarily to glance at the people seated in a neat row on the hard and uncomfortable plastic chairs that the hospital provides as seating. Then, I'm back to my pacing. It's easier than meeting their eyes, seeing the confusion and worry mirrored in them that I feel so deeply myself.  
  
So I keep moving, fooling myself into thinking that if I keep moving time might just pass a little faster.  
  
"For Christ sake Grissom, would you just sit down? You're making me dizzy!" Sara snaps, her voice laced with frustration.  
  
I quickly take a seat, suddenly aware of the mounting tension that's encompassing my team. I gave them all the night off, so in turn they're all here with me - Warrick, Sara, Nick and for some reason I don't quite understand, Greg. Lindsey is with us as well since none of us has the heart to try and track down a sitter for her. None of us has been able to get in touch with Cath's sister.  
  
In moments I'm fidgeting. Plucking at invisible thread on my trousers, tapping my feet on the ground and my fingers on my knees. I grip the arms of my chair tightly, impatient to be moving again and forcing myself to stay put. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. I'm normally a very patient man.  
  
Just not today.  
  
Not when I've been waiting a little over two and a half hours for any news on the condition of the woman that I love. My confidence from earlier, my certainty that she would be fine is rapidly evaporating. I just want some news, any sort of indication that she was fine.  
  
Is that too much to ask?  
  
A weight settles on my lap, startling me as two small arms wend around my neck and a head settles in the crook of my neck. My eyes pop open to discover that it's Lindsey that has plopped herself unceremoniously into my lap. It takes a moment for me to realize that her body is shaking lightly and a moment more to realize that she's crying.  
  
My arms wrap around her tiny frame, pulling her closer to me in an attempt to console her. Any thoughts that this is completely unlike her, and me, to show this sort of affection for each other evaporate from my mind as I focus on the only thing that is important at the moment; comforting Lindsey. And through comforting her, I seek a tiny measure of consolation for myself.  
  
Her sobs subside and I feel her moving against me, pushing away slightly. I loosen my grip on her and look down at her, meeting those enormous, sad, blue eyes. Her eyes are puffy and red, her cheeks damp from her tears. The terror in her eyes steals my breath. It's only been a couple of months since her father died, and now her mother is in the hospital.   
  
"Is Mommy going to be okay Uncle Gil?" She asks me in a doleful voice.  
  
I want to tell her yes, but stop myself. To be completely honest, even I don't know if she's going to be okay. I have little doubt that she'll pull through the surgery fine; she's a fighter, the strongest woman that I have ever and will ever know. But on the flipside, will she be fine emotionally?  
  
That I can't answer but I've made the conscious decision to be there for her no matter what.  
  
"I don't know, Linds," I tell her honestly, "but I hope so."  
  
However she seems content with my reply, perhaps she's just happy to have had her question answered honestly. Forcing a smile, she burrows her head into my shoulder and sighs softly. "Uncle Gil, can I stay with you until Mom is better?"  
  
Wow. I'm not sure what surprises me more - the way she's snuggled into me or the pure need in her voice. Lindsey and I have never been exactly what you'd call close, and yet all of a sudden she wants to be with me and only me. "What about your aunt, don't you want to stay with her?"  
  
"No," she murmurs sleepily, the events of the afternoon obviously taking their toll on her. "I want to stay with you. I feel safe with you."  
  
Well knock me over with a feather!  
  
I think quite possibly that is the best compliment that I've ever been paid, and I can't help the small, silly, grin that tugs at my lips. I tighten my grip on her again, hugging her tightly to me, my heart swelling with affection. "Of course you can, Lindsey, but I probably won't be leaving the hospital tonight."  
  
She yawns softly. "That's okay, as long as I'm with you."  
  
"You will be," I tell her sincerely. "Why don't you try and get some sleep?"  
  
I feel her head nod lightly against my lap, and her body relax against me. I can feel her drifting off to sleep, her breathing evening out as her hands tangle in my shirt. A small smile forms on my lips as I begin to gently stroke small circles on her back.  
  
Since when have I been so paternal?  
  
I look up, glance at the other members of my team to discover them watching us with various levels of surprise or amusement. Sara, in particular seems most surprised of them all. I guess they're all seeing a new side of Gil Grissom today. To be perfectly honest, this is all pretty new to me too. And strangely enough it's made me feel like I've missed something that I've never had before.  
  
The unconditional affection and trust of a child.  
  
My eyes drift back down to Lindsey, to what I can see of her given the closeness of her body to mine. She's fast asleep, seemingly content and comfortable in my lap. I can't help but wonder if she used to do this with Eddie. Did she curl up in his lap all the time and go to sleep?  
  
"Mr Grissom?"  
  
I jerk my head up to look at the person standing in front of me, wondering how she had managed to walk up to me without my even noticing her. "Yes?"  
  
I feel the sudden urge to stand, but am unwilling to disturb the sleeping girl on my lap to do so. The woman smiles and extends her hand to me. "I'm Dr. Munroe, Mr. Grissom."  
  
I take her hand and tentatively shake it. "Gil," I tell her, impatient to know what's happening with Catherine. The Doctor's face is a well- constructed mask that only years of experience can put into place, a perfect poker face that gives away nothing, friendly and detached. I release her hand. "Is Catherine.?"  
  
The doctor smiles, her expression tired and forced. "Ms. Willows is going to be fine, given time and plenty of bed rest."  
  
"So there's no permanent damage?" Warrick pipes up next to me. I spare him a glance before fixing my eyes on the Doctor again.  
  
The Doctor turns slightly to address Warrick. "Like I said, given time. The bullet caused a considerable amount of damage. It struck the right lobe of the liver and caused some destructive damage to the Hepatic Flexure of the colon. We were forced to remove portions of both her small and large intestines. But that being said, it could have been a lot worse. Ms Willows is a lucky woman."  
  
The relief pours over me in a refreshing wave and I let out a breath that I didn't realize that I was holding. A small, tentative smile forms on my face. "Can I see her?" I ask, adjusting my hold on Lindsey as I stand up. She barely even stirs as the motion jostles her lightly.  
  
For the first time since introducing herself the doctor's face warms slightly as she smiles, her eyes drifting to the sleeping girl in my arms. "I can't see why not," she responds, "But only for a few minutes. She should be in her room by now, but she'll be groggy and sleepy."  
  
I don't care if she's sleeping; I just need to reassure myself that she is actually okay. I *need* to see her to make the fear and worry of the last few hours go away. And I want more than to just see her. I want to touch her face, to watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, to feel the steadiness of her heartbeat under my fingers.  
  
Then I want to tell her that I don't want to live the rest of my life without her.  
  
Wordlessly, Warrick steps up to me and takes Lindsey out of my arms. Her eyes open for a moment and she whimpers softly before they close again and she settles in the other man's arms. I brush her fringe off her forehead and watch her for the briefest of moments, marvelling at the peacefulness of her sleeping features before turning and following the doctor down the corridor.  
  
The Doctor slows at a door and opens it for me. I nod my thanks before stepping inside. The site that greets me stops me in my tracks and I can do nothing but stand there and stare. She looks so small and frail lying there amongst the tangle of tubes and wires. Her skin is porcelain white, her cheeks drawn and gaunt.  
  
I wonder why I haven't noticed that before.  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Grissom," the doctor's voice interrupts my musings. "I should have warned you about all the tubes. They can be a shock if you're not expecting them."  
  
"What are they all for?" I ask her stupidly. I should know, but at the moment the purpose for all those tubes and wires marring her body eludes me, until my eyes catch on the plastic cylinder lying underneath the bed collecting fluids. For the first time since entering the room I turn to look at the doctor. "Catheter?"  
  
The doctor nods. "For the time being yes. We'll have to give her body a few days to recoup and before she'll have normal bowel function."  
  
"Anything else I should know?"  
  
The doctor smiled warmly. "No, Mr. Grissom, but you might want to warn your daughter before she visits," she tells me, gripping the door handle and pulling it closed. "You can have five minutes, and then she has to rest."  
  
The door is closed before I get the chance to correct her about Lindsey, but as I face Catherine again all thoughts of her daughter are overridden. I take a few tentative steps to her bedside and stand there looking down at her.  
  
She looks so fragile, like the slightest of touches might bruise her, and I'm almost too scared to reach out and touch her. The woman lying in front of me is so unlike the Catherine that I know, the one that I have worked with for ten years, my friend, the woman I've fallen in love with.  
  
This Catherine before me, pale and drawn, looks so small and vulnerable; and vulnerability is something that I've never associated with Catherine Willows. But I watch as her chest rises and falls evenly, the sound of the heart monitor beeping rhythmically and I slowly come to realize how close I came to losing her.  
  
My heart thudding dully in my chest, I reach out and take her hand, mindful of the ugly IV line that mars the pale flesh of her wrist. Slowly I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. She's warm to the touch and as my thumb moves in a slow circle on her hand she begins to show small signs of responsiveness.  
  
"Oh Cath," I whisper to her, desperate to get out everything that I've kept bottled up inside me out into the open. "Do you have any idea how much you scared me?"  
  
She moans softly, her eyelids fluttering, her fingers tightening minutely on mine. I reach out and trace her jaw gently with my finger. "I never want you to do that to me again. I never want to have to go through the misery and fear of thinking that I might lose you again."  
  
I cup her cheek and her eyes flutter open for a brief moment, their usual sparkle dulled by the combination of anaesthetic and painkillers. They close again, but not before a spark of recognition fills them. Unable to deny the feeling that it's my voice and touch that she's responding to, I can't help but continue, and for a change the words come easily to me.  
  
"You probably won't remember a single word that I say to you right now, but I'll tell you again when you're better. I just have to get this off my chest now."  
  
She squeezes my fingers, her eyes opening again and focussing on mine as if her body is paying attention to the seriousness of my tone. "I don't want to lose you Cath, if what happened today has taught me anything it's that. I can't lose you because I value you too much . I love you too much for you to be taken away from me."  
  
Her eyes widen slightly and a miniscule gasp escapes her lips. "That's right Cath, I love you and I promise I'll be there for you no matter what. Even if you don't feel the same way about me I just want you to know that I'll always be there for you."  
  
Leaning down, I brush a soft kiss on her forehead my heart feeling lighter than it has in the longest time. "Now close your eyes. You need to sleep, and when you wake up Lindsey and I will be here waiting for you."  
  
I release her hand and step away from the bed. I know that there is little to no chance of her remembering what I've just told her, but I vow to myself that I will tell her again once she's better. I've fallen too far and too hard not to tell her. I take one last, long, look at her and begin to walk out of the room.  
  
"Gil," her voice is so quiet that I almost don't hear it. "Love you too."  
  
I freeze and twist around quickly to look at her, startled that the first words to leave her mouth are the very words that I have been longing to hear. In two steps I'm back at her side only to find that her eyes have drifted shut and she has fallen back into a deep, drug induced sleep.  
  
I lean down and brush another kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. *Please,* I pray silently, *let her remember this.*  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
End Part Three  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	4. Part Four

TITLE: Light My Way  
  
AUTHOR: Saz  
  
E-MAIL: flotterbum@netscape.net  
  
PAIRING: G/C  
  
RATING: PG  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask!  
  
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me much as I'd like em to be . yadda yadda.  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes Please!!!  
  
SPOILERS: None  
  
SUMMARY/NOTES: Thanks heaps to Tara and Erin for betaing this for me again. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it. :::huggles::: to you all  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Light My Way By Saz  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Part Four  
  
It's the pain that wakes me up, sending my eyes wide open and tearing a ragged gasp from my throat. The pain is something I've never experienced before in my life, sharp and stabbing at a single point beneath my ribs, yet the rest of my belly feels like it's been opened up and my innards stirred around. Then, there's the discomfort. I can feel the tubes in my nostrils, the needle in my wrist and tubes in other places that I don't even want to think about.  
  
Quite simply I feel like crap.  
  
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to quiet my roiling belly and stop the threatening nausea. It passes quickly, but my stomach remains uneasy, and as sore as it is at the moment, the last thing I want is to be sick. I take a moment; my eyes still closed and listen to the sounds surrounding me. The constant beep of the heart monitor near my head, the click of the IV unit as it dispenses its fluid into my body and the steady, even, breathing of somebody in the room with me.  
  
I feel panic threatening to overtake me as the sound brings back memories that I'd rather leave forgotten. I can see him clearly, standing in the doorway of my bathroom, a predatory gleam in his eyes making his intentions obvious. The gun, clutched in his fist, glinting dully in the light looking almost as threatening as the man does. I feel the fear as the knowledge of what he has planned for me sinks in, and the resolve that he will not have his way with me.  
  
With a small cry I force my eyes open and lay there staring at the uniform white ceiling, gasping for breath. There's a sharp intake of breath and I turn my head to look in its direction. What I find is pleasantly surprising and goes a long way to sending my panic scurrying away.  
  
Gil is sitting in the only chair in the room, his intelligent blue eyes blinking sleepily as he watches me. Fast asleep on his lap with his arms wrapped protectively around her is my daughter. The two most important people in my life, waiting for me to wake up, I can't begin to describe how touching it is. I can see the concern filling Gil's features as he shifts awkwardly with Lindsey's weight on him.  
  
"Cath, are you okay?"  
  
I nearly tell him that I'm fine, but the lie dies on my tongue. The memories of what happened too fresh in my mind. "No Gil, I'm not," I tell him honestly, surprised at how raw and gravely my voice sounds.  
  
He shifts again, his eyes clouding with worry and jostling Lindsey enough to wake her. Her eyes open and focus on me a moment before they widen and she grins excitedly. "Mommy!" She screeches, struggling out of Gil's grasp.  
  
"Linds," Gil barks in his best authoritative tone, "Remember what I told you. Your mom's very sore at the moment so just make sure you're careful!"  
  
Though she doesn't look back at him, Lindsey nods and stops at my bedside. I can see that she's itching to crawl up onto the bed next to me, but Gil was right, I am sore and although I want nothing more than to hold my daughter I don't think I could even sit up at the moment if I wanted to.  
  
I reach out and stroke her hair. "Hey, baby," I whisper, my voice faltering as I choke up, the emotions welling up inside me getting too strong.  
  
"Are you feeling better Mommy?"  
  
I feel tears prick at my eyes. I could have died. I could have left Lindsey parentless. I don't think she has any idea how close she could have come to losing me, and I guess I have Gil and my friends to thank for that. I choke back a sob and catch her hand in mine. "I'll be okay, baby."  
  
Lindsey's face stretches into one of her fabulously bright smiles. "Good. I was scared."  
  
I become aware of Gil as he stands and moves closer to the bed until he's standing behind Lindsey and looking down at me. His eyes, normally so closed off and unreadable are dancing with emotions that I can only begin to interpret. A small smile graces his face as his hands settle on my daughter's shoulders protectively. The change in their relationship is remarkable and deeply touching.  
  
"You scared us all Cath," he tells me quietly, his words hinting at a deeper, more personal meaning. Despite saying all I know he means himself more than anyone else.  
  
His words that I dimly remember from my earlier grogginess, when his face was the first I saw as I came out of my anaesthetic induced sleep come back to me. Although I have only a vague recollection of the expression on his face, the emotion in his eyes, I can remember his words clearly.  
  
*"I don't want to lose you Cath, if what happened today has taught me anything it's that. I can't lose you because I value you too much . I love you too much for you to be taken away from me."* I can remember clearly the earnestness in his voice, the heartfelt emotions that he could barely contain, the love that radiated from him.  
  
*"That's right Cath, I love you and I promise I'll be there for you no matter what. Even if you don't feel the same way about me I just want you to know that I'll always be there for you."* I can remember his voice, so close, yet I had to fight and struggle just to keep my eyes open and fight harder still to focus on him. But even with my eyes closed I could feel his lips gently brushing across my forehead and the warm rush of pleasure that accompanied it.  
  
He leans down towards Lindsey, but his eyes remain steadily on mine. He looks nervous but resolute. "Linds, why don't you go down to the nurses' station and tell them that your mom is awake. Ask if they can bring in a pitcher of water, too."  
  
Lindsey nods eagerly and bolts out of the room, leaving me marveling at the change that's occurred between her and Gil. My daughter has always liked Gil and he's felt the same towards her, but now their relationship seems deeper and closer than it ever has before.  
  
Gil smiles sheepishly, seeming to know what I'm thinking about and shrugs as he steps closer to me. "She said she trusted me because you trusted me," he tells me in that cryptic and oh-so endearing way he has. "She didn't want to leave me and I didn't have the heart to make her stay with a sitter."  
  
His hand settles on the bed, close to my hand but not quite touching. His eyes glint with nervousness, but he continues to look at me, our eyes locked. I reach out and grip his hand. "Thank you, Gil."  
  
He looks surprised and a little confused. "For what?"  
  
Thoughtlessly I shift slightly, subconsciously trying to sit up a little. The motion sends lances of fire shooting in every direction through my body. Black specks dance in my eyes as I cry out in pain. The nausea, briefly forgotten, slams into me with unexpected ferocity.  
  
"Gil, I'm gonna be sick," I manage to gasp, struggling to roll myself over onto my side. The last thing I want is to choke on my vomit because the pain was too great to roll over.  
  
He seems to notice this and reacts instantly, his hands fumbling with my arms, forcing me as gently as he can onto my side and closer to the edge of the bed so my head is hanging over the side. One hand gently pulls my hair off my face and holds it while the other begins to slowly stroke up and down my back soothingly as my stomach roils.  
  
And as the excruciating pain and a horrid smell of lingering anaesthetic gas fills my nostrils acutely increasing my nausea, I empty the meagre contents of my already empty belly onto the floor and all over Gil's shoes. Each retch sends pain arching through my body so intense that I wonder how long it will take for me to black out.  
  
Gil's voice breaks through the haze that's enshrouded my mind, comforting and caring. "It's okay, Cath, just get it out. I'm here, honey, you'll be fine."  
  
I know if he continues to talk to me and touch me like he is I'll be more than fine. Normally I'd hate to admit it, but right now I'm enjoying him fawning over me, as much as I can, given my present circumstance. For the first time since I left Eddie, I'm willing to concede that I need help, that I need his help. He told me that he'd always be there for me, and I know now that I need him more than I'd ever thought I needed anyone.  
  
Finally, the nausea is gone but I remain hanging over the edge of the bed for a moment. I spit a couple of times, trying to get the foul taste of bile out of my mouth. I can still feel his hands stroking my back and hear his soft murmurings.  
  
And, despite the pain and unsettled stomach I feel better and I know it's all because of him.  
  
I try to push myself back from the edge but I don't have the strength. Carefully, Gil guides me back onto the bed so I'm lying on my back looking up at him once again. His eyes are bright with concern as his hand slides into mine and our fingers entwine. "You okay?"  
  
"I am now," I whisper huskily. And I'm not lying, I'm fine and it's all because of him. "You are going to be there for me no matter what, aren't you?"  
  
Gil blushes, his face turning deep scarlet and drags his eyes away from mine. "You remember?" He asks sheepishly, looking suddenly boyish and shy.  
  
I wish I could reach up and cup his cheek, make him look at me, but I'm a realist, I know the motion would probably make me pass out from the pain. "Of course I do, Gil," I tell him softly, squeezing his hand gently. He meets my eyes again and I can see the uncertainty shining in their crystalline blue depths. "After all, it's not every day a man tells me that he loves me, and actually means it."  
  
Gil's eyes brighten and I can see hope intermingling with a silent question - do I feel the same way? I can remember responding to him, telling him I loved him too but I was groggy and drowsing and honestly I can't remember now if I spoke the words aloud or just imagined that I had.  
  
"And how do you feel?" He asks quietly. His voice full of quiet intensity, waivers slightly, but those beautiful blue eyes of his are shining with anticipation.  
  
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I'd certainly never imagined telling Gil how I felt about him in the hospital, but I'd also vowed as I was lying on the floor of the bathroom that I wasn't going to hide how I felt anymore. I'm tired of our relationship lying in limbo.  
  
"Gil," I start, "I want-"  
  
The door to the room slams open and Lindsey trundles in. For the first time since she was born, I curse her sense of bad timing. I glance up at Gil in time to see a flash of dismay cross his face before he closes himself off. The nausea returns, milder this time, and a deep sense of disgust roots itself in my heart for not getting the words I wanted to say out sooner. Now he's probably thinking the worst.  
  
Damn.  
  
"The nurse said she was going to come and see you in a minute, Mommy," Lindsey tells me matter-of-factly as she walks up to my bed. She stops as her eyes fall on the puddle of vomit on the floor and wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Gross!"  
  
I feel Gil's hand pull out of mine as he moves away from the bed, carefully side-stepping the puddle. He spares a glance and smile at Lindsey and ruffles her hair affectionately as he walks past her. "I'll go and ask for someone to clean this up," he murmurs, the lack of expression in his voice tearing at me.  
  
"Gil, wait!" I call out but my appeal comes too late, he's already left the room and I can only watch helplessly as the door slowly shuts behind him.  
  
God damn it!  
  
What if he thought I was rejecting him? He could have easily taken my silence as rejection rather than my ineptitude at finding the right words to express my feelings. And because of my ineptitude those walls were back up, his emotions once again carefully guarded. Now it was going to be impossible for me to read him and there was going to be no way of knowing how he felt.  
  
All I know without a shadow of doubt is that I want him to look at me again like he was earlier. I want to be able to look at him and see the love that I feel reflected in those cerulean depths. If I have to tell him how I feel in front of my daughter, or the nurses I will because the moment he walks back into this room I'm going to tell him.  
  
Then I'm never going to let him go.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
Lindsey's voice drags me out of my musings and I watch her as she moves to the other side of my bed and drags a chair to the bedside. Climbing up on it, she stands so she's practically at eye level with me. She reaches out and brushes some hair out of my face, a gesture I use on her whenever she is sick or upset.  
  
I can't help but smile at her. "Yes, honey?"  
  
"How long are you going to be here?"  
  
She seems so strong at the moment, stronger than I think I'd ever be if our situations were reversed. Has she just suddenly grown up or has she always been this way and I just haven't noticed her resilience before now? I reach out, ignoring the pain which is still silently and persistently gnawing away at me, and run my fingers through her hair.  
  
Does she have any idea how lucky she truly is?  
  
"I don't know, baby, maybe a week. I'll have to wait until I see the Doctor to find out."  
  
Lindsey smiles softly, a gesture I know that definitely doesn't come from her father; he couldn't have smiled warmly if his life depended on it. "Can I stay with Uncle Gil until you come home?"  
  
Her words have a profound impact on me, reinforcing that something deep and meaningful happened between the two of them, yet I'm at a loss to understand what. Perhaps they came together in solace and fear but regardless, I like what I see and am thankful that Lindsey has accepted Gil into her life the way she has.  
  
My eyes are drawn to the door opening and Gil stepping quietly in, oblivious to our conversation. Our eyes meet briefly before he glances away and moves to sit in a chair in the far corner by the door, carefully avoiding my gaze. Lindsey, seemingly intent on our conversation, hasn't even noticed his entrance.  
  
"Well, you'd have to ask if it's okay with him first, but if he doesn't mind it's fine with me."  
  
Lindsey grins at me, obviously happy with my reply. I take her hand and gently tug her closer wanting nothing more than to hold her, to hell with the pain. Cautiously she climbs on the bed, her actions slow and deliberate as if she were crawling onto a bed with a porcelain doll that would crumble under the slightest of pressure.  
  
She curls onto her side, only maintaining a minimum of contact but her eyes are fixed on mine. "Is he going to look after you when you get out?"  
  
I purposefully do not glance at Gil. I have a strange feeling that I know where this conversation is going to go, and I couldn't have planned it better myself. I say a silent prayer of thanks for having a daughter who is not only intuitive but intelligent as well.  
  
"I don't know, Linds, I hope so though." I answer her honestly, wishing fervently that the next question she asks is the one I hope it to be.  
  
I don't have to look to imagine Gil sitting there on tenterhooks, absorbing every word, analyzing every nuance in my voice and body language with his thorough and scientific mind. I can picture his eyes brightening once again with hope. I can feel them on me, but force myself to pay no attention to him.  
  
"Mommy, do you love Uncle Gil like he loves you?"  
  
Yes!  
  
If I were able to move I would leap out of the bed and do a little dance of joy. I have no idea how Lindsey knows about how Gil feels about me, whether he told her or she just worked it out for herself but this was exactly the opening I'd been praying for.  
  
My answer is on the tip of my tongue before I'd even fully decided what I was going to say, and I spoke quickly to prevent what happened earlier from reoccurring. Now I do turn and meet those blue eyes once more.  
  
"Yes, Lindsey, I love him very much."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
End Part Four  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	5. Part 5

TITLE: Light My Way, Part 5  
  
AUTHOR: Saz  
  
E-MAIL: flotterbum@netscape.net.nz  
  
PAIRING: G/C  
  
RATING: PG  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask!  
  
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me much as I'd like em to be . yadda yadda.  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes Please!!!  
  
SPOILERS: None  
  
SUMMARY/NOTES: Thanks to Clara and Erin for betaing this for me. :::huggles:::  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Light My Way By Saz  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I can't believe what I'm hearing, sitting here, listening in to the conversation that's happening between Catherine and Lindsey as if I am not even in the room, let alone sitting mere meters from them. Catherine knows that I'm here, she watched me as I entered and yet she continues the conversation almost like she's leading it on.   
  
What is she playing at?  
  
I remain seated, my curiosity winning out as I study her, as I listen to every word that is uttered between the two of them, trying to work out where this is heading. Trying to find any hint in Catherine that she feels the same way that I do. Despite her telling me she loved me as she lay there drowsy and still very much under the influence of the anesthetic, it isn't enough for me. I want to hear her say it when she's coherent, when she's in full control of her faculties.  
  
And I don't think I'm going to hear it.   
  
Her pause earlier, when I asked her how she felt was enough to tell me everything that I needed to know. If she felt the same way she wouldn't have frozen, she wouldn't have had the need to compose herself. But, I promised that I would be there for her no matter how she felt, and it wasn't a lie. I will be there for her come hell or high water, as her friend or her lover, I'd be content with either. Just as long as she's in my life I'll be happy.  
  
Thinking about it, I can understand why she might not be attracted to me. She's beautiful, vivacious and intelligent, the type of woman that could get any man she wanted by batting her eyelids at him. Me, I live a simple life governed by my job and severe lack of anything as personal as a relationship. Catherine is the only person that I've allowed to get close enough to the man I hide behind my shell and the only person that I trust implicitly.  
  
She is in essence the yin to my yang.  
  
"Mommy, do you love Uncle Gil like he loves you?"  
  
I freeze as the words leave Lindsey's mouth, filled with childlike curiosity and innocence. I'd half expected the question, she'd asked me a reworded version of it last night, but at the time I'd just assumed it had been her way of asserting me as a father figure in her life. A little egotistical, I know, but we truly did bond last night on a level that I'd never expected.  
  
What I want to know is did she figure this out for herself, or was it just a lucky guess that I loved her mother? If it wasn't a lucky guess, am I wearing my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see? God, I hope not.  
  
I'm rooted in place as Catherine's turns from her daughter, her eyes seeking mine. I see the warm, genuine smile adorn her face and I know without a shadow of a doubt what her answer will be. How could I have been so stupid to have doubted in the first place, when the greatest honesty comes out of drowsiness?  
  
"Yes, Lindsey, I love him very much."  
  
Before I realize it I'm moving, my chair scraping loudly on the vinyl floor as the little voice inside my head screams "She loves me!' repetitively. Catherine's eyes widen slightly, her grin growing in answer to the goofy grin I can feel spreading across my own face, watching me as I cross the room and carefully skirt the pool of vomit that still mars the floor.  
  
Lindsey finally seems to notice me, her head rising to stare up at me, and her own excited grin to share. Her eyes dart between her mother and myself as I stop at the bedside and manage to control the urge I suddenly feel to pull Cath against me and kiss her.  
  
Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to do it, just not with the fervor that I intended.  
  
I lean over her, gently cupping her cheeks between my hands, Lindsey's presence next to Cath all but forgotten as my eyes feast on the woman in front of me. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that," I whisper to her.  
  
Cath smiles, her hand moving to stroke my cheek, the plastic tube of her IV slapping against my neck a gentle reminder of her condition. "Yes, I do, Gil," she murmurs before she pulls my head down towards hers.  
  
The moment our lips meet I realize it's the right thing. All the years of pent up emotions and bottled up feelings come to a head. The bitter smell of the hospital cleanliness is masked by the sweet smell that is hers alone. I brace my left hand on the bedside to hold myself above her. My free hand travels up her arm and rests on the side of her neck. I can feel the accelerated pulsing of the vein there, reminding me once more that she is alive. And mine.  
  
A combination of Lindsey's giggles and the door banging open is enough to make me jump back from Cath. Heat rises in my cheeks as if I were a child caught doing something wrong rather than the mature, responsible adult that I am. I turn to find a nurse entering the room, a cleaning lady behind her.  
  
The nurse shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," though her tone of voice offers no apology, only mild scorn.  
  
Lindsey's giggles are joined by Catherine's and I know they're laughing at me, at my embarrassment. Why the hell am I so embarrassed anyway? I wasn't doing anything wrong. In fact, what we were doing was very, *very* right.  
  
Maybe it's just been too long for me.  
  
I step aside as the nurse nears the bed, my hand slipping easily into Catherine's and our fingers intertwining. Lindsey quietly and carefully slips off the bed as the nurse moves around the bed, and curls into the seat, watching the other woman wearily. I know it's only a matter of time before Lindsey and I get our marching orders.  
  
The nurse's face is full of professional concern as she stops at Cath's bedside and opens her chart. "How are you feeling, Ms Willows?"  
  
I watch Catherine's face, see her reining back the sarcastic response that naturally comes to her tongue. A small grimace crosses her face. "Sore and uncomfortable," she admits.  
  
The nurse offers a warm smile and begins to take Cath's vitals. "I'll just finish up here and then get you something for the pain."  
  
As she tells Cath that, her eyes settle on me and I know it's time for Lindsey and me to leave. You leave modesty at the door when you enter a hospital, but the least I can do is let Cath keep as much of her dignity as possible intact.  
  
I lean in closer to Cath, breathing in the scent that is uniquely hers for a moment as I wait for her to turn her head and look at me. I brush a few wisps of fringe of her face. "We'll go now. I'll take Lindsey home with me for dinner and a nap and then we'll come back. It'll give you a chance to get some rest too."  
  
A slight frown mars her beautiful face but she nods in agreement. I can see the disappointment lingering behind her eyes, a disappointment that I share. If I could, I'd never move from this room until she was discharged and I could take her home with me. But it's not up to me, and there's Lindsey to consider.  
  
I brush a soft kiss on her forehead. "We'll have a talk when I come back okay?" I tell her as I straighten and step away from the bed. We're going to have a lot to talk about, and some of it isn't going to be pleasant.  
  
I don't have to say a thing to Lindsey and merely watch as she stands on the seat and kisses her mother on the forehead. "Bye, Mommy."  
  
Cath smiles and I notice again how pale and weak she looks. "See you soon, Linds, and be good for Gil, okay?"  
  
Lindsey rolls her eyes as she hops off the chair and moves around the bed to stand next to me. Her hand sliding into mine surprises me, but I grip it tightly in mine. "I know, Mom," she mutters.  
  
Catherine's attention is back on me. "And no sweets or coke, okay Gil?"  
  
I can't help but grin at her maternal tone. "Yes, Cath," I respond. Unable to resist the urge I step back to the bed all but dragging Lindsey with me and press a soft kiss to her lips.  
  
"I'll see you soon, Honey."  
  
***  
  
"Are you going to marry mommy, Uncle Gil?"  
  
The question catches me unaware, causing me to slip with the knife. I feel the sharp bite of the blade as it sinks into my finger and manage to stifle a curse as I stick my finger in my mouth. Where in hell did that question come from?  
  
Lindsey blinks innocently up at me and reaches across the breakfast bar to pull my finger out of my mouth and towards her. Her brow ruffles slightly as she studies the cut. "Do you have band-aids?"  
  
I can't keep the smile nor the disbelief off my face. She is so full of wonders, and so full of curiosity and intelligence like her mother. "It's alright, it's only a nick."  
  
She scrunches her nose in disgust. "But, you're cooking. You'll get blood all over the food!"  
  
I laugh lightly at her. I can't help myself, she's just so cute! I don't vocalize it, I don't want to embarrass her. Instead I pull my hand out of hers and reach under the counter and pull out the small first aid kit that I keep there. Placing it on the counter, Lindsey snatches it up and opens it before I have a chance to.  
  
I watch her as she pries open the kit and pulls out some antiseptic cream and a band-aid. She reaches out and takes my hand again, pulling it closer to her. Uncapping the antiseptic she squeezes a little out and gently applies it to the cut. "You didn't answer my question, Uncle Gil," she says quietly, seemingly intent on peeling the wrappers off the band-aid.  
  
And I'd thought that she'd forgotten. How wrong I was. "I don't know, Linds."  
  
"Why not?" she asks, before clenching her tongue between her lips and wrapping the band-aid around my finger. She looks across at me with those big blue eyes. "Mommy loves you, and you love Mommy, and I like you more than all the other men that she's brought home. I wouldn't mind if you were going to be my new Daddy."  
  
I know of a lot of men that would find those words leaving the mouth of a child daunting. I'd once believed that I would feel the same way, after all I have enough trouble relating with people, and children are a whole different kettle of fish. But coming from Lindsey it has a different effect. Her words are profound, touching, I know if she's accepted me as being part of her mother's life it makes our transition from friendship to a deeper relationship easier.  
  
And I'm really growing to adore her, and it's not just because Catherine is her mother. It's something deeper than that. I've watched her grow from a baby, always on the outside, but there nevertheless. I helped her nurture her growing love of science. Knowing that she likes me, that she doesn't mind that I will be seeing her mother, that we have her *approval*, is a blessing that I'd never expected and will never take for granted.  
  
"I wouldn't mind being your new Daddy either, but a marriage requires a commitment that neither me or your Mom are ready for at the moment," I tell her honestly, picking up and rinsing the knife.  
  
Lindsey's brow furrows as she watches my face intently. "Why not? You love each other don't you?"  
  
I put the knife down on the bench and look at her. "Of course I do, Lindsey. But . this is new to both of us Lindsey. Your mom is in the hospital. We haven't talked about how we feel. We haven't even been on a date!"  
  
Her head bobs quickly in understanding. "But, you will marry her one day?"  
  
"I hope so, Linds. I really do."  
  
I'm not lying. I honestly hope that one day Catherine and I will marry, but our progression from friendship to a deeper relationship is only just beginning, and probably won't progress into anything substantial until she has recovered. Lindsey grins at me, though, once again content with my reply.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
End Part 5  
  
~*~*~*~ 


End file.
